Fault Lines
by Mizu Iruka
Summary: Sam knows where the blame lies, and it's with himself, as always. Unseen 'verse, directly following What Remains Unseen.


**Fault Lines**

* * *

"John, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. And to be honest, even supernatural methods may not do anything as well. The neurons themselves are actually damaged. I'm sorry."

Dean shuddered at the doctor's words, craning his neck to try and see Sammy through the cracked door.

"Dad, can I go see him?" he interjected into their conversation. His Dad nodded distractedly, taking the doctor and turning away. Dean could remember him mentioning how the medic was a friend, but right now he sort of wanted to punch the guy for not being able to fix Sam.

"Sammy?" he called, pushing the door open.

Sam was frantically scrubbing at his face, trying to hide the evidence of tears.

"Hey, kiddo, how're you doing?"

"Fine."

"Uh huh." Dean ignored the way Sam jumped when Dean sat down next to him. "Your head hurt?"

"No," he muttered.

"You want to get some candy?"

"Dude, I'm not five," Sam growled. He swiped at his eyes again, but Dean watched a tear escape. So Sam could still cry.

"Hey." Dean hesitated. They had never been touchy-feely, since that was, well, girly, but it wasn't like Sam could read his face like he used to. "It's gonna be okay." He slung an arm around Sam's shoulders, and his little brother folded up against him.

"I need to learn Braille," Sam mumbled into his shirt.

"Sure thing."

"And I need a cane."

"Okay."

The door opened, and Sam jumped at the noise.

"Let's go boys," their Dad said.

Dean helped Sam off the examination table, steadying him easily when his feet skidded against the slick floor.

Sam flushed with embarrassment, and muttered a quick, "sorry."

Dean cuffed the side of his head, since Sam couldn't see him roll his eyes. "No apologizing, Sammy. Got it?"

Sam hunched up his shoulders so they were practically by his ears. "Yeah. Sure."

Their Dad was looking at them with a strange expression, so Dean raised an eyebrow, only to receive a head shake.

"There's a job in Texas," he announced, and Dean stopped.

"Wait, what?"

"We need to leave," their Dad said patiently.

"What about Sam?" Dean asked incredulously.

"What about him?"

Sam sighed, "I'm right here, you know."

"We'll find some kind of professional while we're down there. Let's go."

Dean scowled, but made no comment.

To his surprise, Sam was pretty close-lipped about his blindness, fighting for independence and trying to get around on his own without saying anything to either of them, which was a change from the constant whining from before. The most Sam ever did was talk about school and how he had one year to get this 'blind stuff' down because he started school earlier than most kids, so he wouldn't be too far behind.

Dean, honestly, was just happy Sam was alive, even if Sam's eyes were pure white instead of a warm hazel.

"How's it going?"

"Fine."

"Sheesh, that's your favorite word." Dean dropped his chin on the top of Sam's head. He had allowed himself to be a lot more physically affectionate than he used to, to which Sam responded pretty well. Usually.

Sam shoved his papers away violently with a growl. "I hate this!"

"Hey, Sammy, relax."

"No, Dean, I won't!" Sam pushed away from Dean as well, passing a hand over his face and shuddering. "Do you know how hard it is to read Braille?"

Dean shrugged before inwardly sighing and then saying aloud, "No, I don't. But you're smart, you can do it."

Sam stumbled his way over to the bed and sank down on it. "I screw everything up," he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam's pinched face tilted up towards him, in a muscle memory of wanting to look at Dean. "I messed up and got myself blind, and now I can't even function right. And Dad—" Sam clammed up.

Dean waited quietly, knowing it was the best way to get Sam to open up.

"I screwed up, again, and Dad knows it, so I'm just trying to prove I can do it."

"Sam, it's not your fault," Dean said, surprised.

Sam shook his head. "Yes, it is. I was an idiot, and now I'm paying for it, only you two are as well."

"Hey," Dean denied, "look, if anyone's to blame, it's me. You were the one who had a bad feeling about the hunt and I ignored you."

Sam shook his head. "It's not your fault, Dean, not even close."

"If it's not my fault, then it's not yours," Dean tried. Sam just shrugged and slumped down on the bed.

They both jumped slightly as their Dad came through the door.

* * *

"I need Dean's help on this job."

The words were like a hammer for Sam. He could read underneath his Dad's dark tones, and it meant that Dean couldn't babysit him anymore.

"Dad, no, we can't just leave Sam here all by himself."

"Dean, it's fine," Sam said tiredly. As he expected, his brother ignored him.

"He can barely walk around the room and you're asking him to manage all by himself?"

"Dean, this is important. People are dying, here." John's voice was a low growl that Sam knew very well from his own brushes in defying John Winchester. Funny, he had rarely heard it used against Dean.

"How long will the hunt take?" Dean's defenses began to break down against John's wrath, as Sam thought they would.

"It should just be a day trip. At most."

Silence pervaded the room, and Sam sat as still as possible in order to show no weakness.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice broke a little at the end. "It's your choice."

Sam knew he just had to say one word and Dean would defy John and stay. "I'll be fine. I'll just work on my Braille."

Dean growled several threats to ensure he wouldn't even move from the bed.

Sam just offered a put-upon sigh, wishing he could roll his eyes to satisfy Dean.

All too soon, they left, Dean making him promise not to go outdoors.

Sam hadn't realized how much he had relied on Dean until he was gone. Ever since the hunt, Dean had been a continual presence, always knocking Sam around, loudly talking about everything, and occasionally (though they never talked about it) hugging him just to let him know he wasn't alone in the darkness.

"Here I am," Sam said aloud, and his voice rang hollow in the room.

Quietly, he walked over to where Dean had put his bag and rummaged around in it until he found what he was looking for.

It would be so easy. Just load the gun, pull the trigger. No more embarrassment, no more guilt, no more useless existence.

Sam stood with the gun for hours before finally putting the gun away. He couldn't do that to Dean.

* * *

**A/N: **Having a blast in England! Figured I'd upload this small piece really quick just because my reviewers have been so lovely. Seriously, you guys are the best. No promises, but I'll try and at least get one up once a week? maybe once every other week? Classes haven't started yet, so the workload could keep me from that. Sorry. Thanks for being so understanding!


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